Memnon’s hand cups my cheek. “And you are my Selene, my eternal soul mate, who woke me from it.”
CHAPTER 24
Soul mate.
That terrifying, bewitching word echoes in my head.
I stagger back. “I—I am not your soul mate,” I say, even though my voice wavers.
I expect my words to be met with annoyance or frustration. This is, after all, a new version of the same old argument we’ve had.
Instead, his eyes have softened. “I saw your mind, little witch. I understand how you struggle and that much has slipped past your own awareness.”
He closes the space between us and places his palm over my heart.
“What are you doing?” I demand. I should rip his hand away. The ugly truth, however, is that I like his touch, even after all the shit he just pulled.
The gall of my body.
Instead of responding, Memnon stares deeply at me.
Empress…why do you think I’m able to speak to you like this?
I don’t breathe, my gaze locked with his.
Your heart knows the answer—as does your magic.
I feel that magic he speaks of rise now, twining with his.
Oh Goddess.
I shake my head.
No, no, no.
Memnon’s glittering brown eyes are intent on me, and a slow pleased smile spreads across his lips, like he can hear my own shocked thoughts.
We are soul mates, little witch, and we can speak down our bond…
I squeeze my eyes shut, grimacing because I can feel his words in me. They seep into my very blood, like a river reaching the ocean.
It felt like this every time he called to me—even when we were kissing only moments ago. I just assumed it was his brand of magic at work. Now, however…now his explanation makes a sick sort of sense.
Bonds are magical cords that connect two entities—like the one I share with Nero. Soul mates have them as well.
Could it be possible? Could Memnon truly be my soul mate, and could he speak to me through a bond we share?
No. I reject that thought before it can take further root.
Memnon’s eyes twinkle deviously, and it makes me wonder just how formidable this man truly is. I have seen his magic and his powerful body, and I have heard enough of his past to know he must’ve been a ruler, one who ruled a vast and expanding empire. Yet, even knowing all of that, I still find Memnon’s mind to be largely a mystery. And I think it’s that very mind of his that is the most terrible thing of all.
“You can talk to me through our bond too,” Memnon says softly, his hand still over my heart.
I pinch my eyes shut. “Stop saying that,” I whisper.
Bonds, mates—I don’t want to hear any of it.
“What, bond? Why would I?” he asks, sounding truly baffled. “It is the basis of everything, est amage. Your power, my power. All I know of my magic has come from it. Before I ever met you face-to-face, I heard your voice, right here.” Memnon uses his other hand to touch his own heart. “I spent countless nights whispering down it to you, and I spent my days letting it guide me across the world to find you.”
My skin tingles with his admission, and when I open my eyes, there’s a rawness and an intensity to his words that has me ensnared.
“So, enemies or not, Selene, please, ask me a question down our bond—project it to me.”
I want to deny him because I am in denial, but his plea gets under my skin, and a sick sort of curiosity wins out.
This shouldn’t work. It really shouldn’t.
I close my eyes once again and focus on that place just beneath Memnon’s warm palm; supposedly, it’s where soul mates are magically bonded. It’s terrifying that I do sense something there, now that I concentrate on it.
I’ve heard bonds described as cords and roads, but this feels more like a river flowing both into and out of me.
How did you get the scar on your face? I push the thought out with my power, forcing it down this magical river I sense.
“At fifteen, a man tried to skin me in battle,” Memnon says.
I open my eyes, both stricken and entranced not just by what he said but also by the fact he heard my voice in his head.
“You read my mind,” I accuse. I don’t want to believe the alternative. That we’re…bonded, our souls inextricably linked.
“I didn’t need to when you spoke so prettily down our bond.” Memnon stares at me with some emotion simmering in his eyes.
I hold his gaze for a second, then two, then three. My pulse is jackhammering, and I can hear the roar of blood in my ears. My knees are growing weak.
“I’m not your soul mate,” I insist.